


A Brief Respite

by codenamecynic



Series: It came from the tumblr-verse [22]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 11:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5625049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codenamecynic/pseuds/codenamecynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a Cipher Agent is never easy, but Vector helps wherever he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brief Respite

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely shadowpiranha on tumblr

The thing that unnerves her most about Vector Hyllus is how easily he sees what she needs. Whether it’s an extra set of hands while dismantling a computer, a steaming cup of coffee when she wakes after a particularly hard night’s sleep, or a set of fingers kneading into her shoulders where she’s made of nothing but knots, Vector knows and provides what he can.

It’s a liability, of course, keeping someone around who can read her so easily, who anticipates her moves so well that he knows to step right when she steps left. She’s an Imperial Agent, no one is supposed to  _know_ her. And maybe that’s why it feels so good.

“We brought you something to drink,” he says, a mug of the tea she likes steaming in his hand. He knows the way she likes to drink it, very strong and just a little sweet, still piping hot when the first sip slides down her throat. The lights on the kolto tanks in Doctor Lokin’s lab blink mutedly in the background as she sits up on the examination table, wincing at a thousand little twinges from a thousand little hurts across her body. She’s feeling her age, acutely aware of the statistical time clock ticking above her head. Most cipher agents don’t last five years before succumbing to either injuries or stress, the ultimate limited shelf life.  She wonders if her experience is typical. She’s never met another cipher agent to ask.

But there’s no particular point in dwelling on the details of her inevitable demise; she puts it aside for another time, swinging bare legs over the edge of the table, sitting still and indulgent - so she tells herself - as Vector rubs his hands together, warming them though he doesn’t touch her skin. His long fingers glide over her aura, that electromagnetic field that the Dawn Herald sees as naturally as he perceives the color of her flesh. How that must change the world in his eyes she will never understand, but it's something she’s come to accept more easily than she thought she would be able.

“You look much better, Agent. We are pleased.”

His pleasant mouth curves upward into a smile around the shape of her title. Her name is something she’s allowed to stay in the dusty ones and zeroes of her past, but on his lips  _Agent_  is just as poignant as the slide of fingers up her spine. All the better, because they never seem to be alone.

That doesn’t stop her from stealing a quick kiss when the doctor’s back is turned, sliding off the table and too close before she smirks and turns away, reclaiming the rest of her clothes.

“Have Temple set a course for Corellia, Doctor, if you please.”

“So soon?” Vector murmurs, in that voice that is neither passive acquiescence nor disagreement. His Joining with the Killiks has made him so  _even,_ something she sometimes envies.

“No rest for the wicked,” she jests, but slides her hand up to cup his face. He leans into the caress, like always, as though he is used only to the touch of others on his mind and not against his flesh.

He smiles, his hand covering hers, both recognition and subtle unasked for reassurance. “We have some time yet, before we get there.”


End file.
